


a fire of devotion

by waterlille



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, Slow Burn, Snogging, a bit of pining I guess, alternate universe - fashion magazine, assistant!louis, blink and you'll miss zayn too, editor-in-chief!harry, except smut, i'm sorry liam i love you, kind of, liam exists I swear but he's not mentioned, the devil wears prada!au, there's a bit of everything really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlille/pseuds/waterlille
Summary: “I’m going to be honest with you, Louis. Ever since our employee left on her license, things have been hectic and we desperately need the help.”Louis readjusted on his seat, daring to feel hope.“I understand, don’t worry. I’m a fast learner.”Harry sighed in defeat and nodded gently.“All right. Let’s give this a shot for a week or two. See if it works.”Louis let out a relieved breath.“Thank you. I’ll prove my worth.”The man barely spared him another look, turning his attention to other things on his desk.“We’ll see.”Or: Harry is basically Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada and Louis doesn't know whether to hate him or to be endeared by him. Most likely a little bit of both. Niall is also there.





	a fire of devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isolated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isolated/gifts).



> Hiiii. This is for @isolated. Thank you very much for your prompts and I hope you enjoy this (84 years later)! 
> 
> This is my first fic ever and it wouldn't exist without the amazing support from my beta Ruby ([@slaychords](https://slaychords.tumblr.com/), [@alittlelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlelove/pseuds/alittlelove)). I honestly can't thank you enough for being so wonderful since day one and never giving up on me! 
> 
> Huge thanks to Amy ([@yourpricelessadvice](http://yourpricelessadvice.tumblr.com/), [@yourpricelessadvice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourpricelessadvice/pseuds/yourpricelessadvice)), the lovely Britpicker who agreed to help me out at the last minute! 
> 
> Finally, a massive thank you to the Mods for putting up with me and being so thoughtful and understanding. I wouldn't have finished this if you weren't so patient and kind. I truly appreciate it! 
> 
> Title is from "What Kind of Man" by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> Have fun!

Louis Tomlinson didn’t belong here.

Perhaps his failure to notice that from the beginning had been a mistake. As soon as he arrived, he had walked up to the reception desk and flashed a charming smile at the lovely, silver-haired woman sitting behind it. It wasn’t until after she had asked him to sit down and wait for his name to be called that he became aware of how out of his depth he was.

His eyes roamed the foyer of the main building of the country’s most prestigious fashion magazine. Everywhere he looked, his eyes met beautiful, youthful and fashionably dressed employees, walking briskly from the lift and past Louis with trays of coffee in hand.

Looking down at his old Stone Roses t-shirt and faded black jeans, Louis sighed. His sense of style had never been his strong point. His wardrobe generally consisted of five-year-old pairs of jeans and band t-shirts, which until now had never bothered him. He was pragmatic when it came to clothes, and never bothered to put much thought into what he wore. But, as he waited in his seat, he grew concerned that his lack of style might cost him an amazing job opportunity here and his fingers itched to light up a cigarette. He would have to hold on, though.

A few days ago, he received the call from Human Resources inviting him for an interview. It took some time until Louis actually believed it. He had applied for a job at several publishing companies in London and was met with no replies. Before the call, he was considering packing his things in Niall’s guest bedroom and begrudgingly returning to his small Northern hometown, Doncaster.

Thankfully, that wouldn’t be necessary now - if he was hired. So, despite his deep disinterest in fashion, he was desperate to be given a chance here. He knew he could prove his worth.

The receptionist from before looked up from her computer screen and glanced at him briefly, before rising to her feet and walking toward him. Louis’ eyes followed her moves attentively.

“Please, follow me, Mr. Tomlinson,” She asked in a silvery voice. Louis almost tripped as he fumbled to stand up.

She led Louis through the different hallways of the office; all bursting with life as employees ran past them carrying racks of clothing and big, colourful panels. They all seemed to be in a rush. Some stared at him rather obviously, as if his appearance was inherently offensive to them. Most didn’t notice him in the midst of their tasks, though.

As they walked further into the office, Louis caught a glimpse now and then of the many rooms integrating the magazine. His gaze followed as, in one room, designers had spread out several sheets of paper on top of long desks and gestured amongst them passionately; meanwhile, in another wide room, employees were sat at their individual desks, all decorated with bright colours and equipped with state-of-the-art computers. They were typing furiously on their laptops and seemed absolutely focussed on what they were doing.

Never had Louis seen people so invested in their work. Back in Doncaster, he got a job at a local newspaper right after graduating university and stayed there for the following five years. He had a desk, two colleagues and very little happened in their town that was newsworthy. His boss was very laid back and the only thing that mattered to him was decent pieces delivered by the deadlines. Their hours in the office didn’t really make a difference to him. Eventually, Louis had settled there. Even though his work wasn’t challenging him to become a better writer, nor was it interesting to him in the least, he never brought himself to resign. That is, until the newspaper went bankrupt and closed down.

Now he was faced with the distant realms of the workforce that he had been missing out on. Thrilling work that pushed people to perform their best.

The woman stopped walking. They had crossed the entire office and were now standing in front of a set of glass doors. Most of the rooms here had glass walls separating them from the rest of the magazine, but this one seemed more important than those, even. Inside, he could see two desks in each corner, facing one another. Another set of doors stood between them, “Editor-in-Chief” engraved on it in silver letters.

“Eleanor will be here for you shortly.” She said, leaving without another word.

He didn’t have to wait long until a dark-haired woman stood up from behind of the desks in the room and came to open the door for him. She smiled at him kindly, however, her brows were furrowed questioningly.

“Are you Louis Tomlinson?”

He stepped inside and stretched out his hand toward her.

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Eleanor Calder, the first Executive Assistant. I believe there’s been a mistake.”

Nevertheless, she shook his extended hand and closed the door behind him. He didn’t expect her to state it so bluntly, but, there it was. The truth he had feared.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but…”

“You do know that this is a fashion magazine?”

“Yes.”

“And-”

Louis raised his eyebrows and smiled tightly, uncomfortable. Eleanor seemed to have noticed.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, raising her arms as if in surrender. “I’m being rude.”

She then courteously beckoned him toward the Editor-in-Chief doors.

“The decision isn’t up to me, anyway. My boss will be interviewing you today. I assume you know who he is?”

Right. He had researched many things about the magazine in question the night before – the recently appointed Editor-in-Chief included. The man, Harry Styles, used to be a famous and quite successful model until his mother, Anne Cox, the magazine’s former Editor-in-Chief, resigned. Admittedly, he was terribly handsome and most likely the most attractive man Louis had ever seen – online at least. He was also very straight, though. Despite his amazing career modelling for numerous important brands – like Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent -, the majority of the news surrounding Harry Styles's persona online was in regards to the new woman he was sleeping with that week. It was a shame, really.

Louis could feel his hands trembling now. He didn’t want to feel intimidated by this man, however gorgeous and unattainable he was. After taking a long breath, he nodded at Eleanor. She knocked idly and rocked back on her heels. A deep, low voice called out for them to come in. This was it. Louis was either going to get the job or not. All he needed to do was to convince Harry Styles that, even though he knew nothing about this magazine and what it wrote about, he was willing to put in the work and make himself useful.

Eleanor opened the door and got in first.

Louis stepped in tentatively and took in his surroundings. The office was minimally furnished and decorated. There were a few paintings hung on the wall and a couple of plant vases in the corner by the windows, but that was all. The lush green ferns were the only colour amongst the white and grey desk and chairs. It was spacious and clean – quite pleasing to look.

“Sir, this is Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor walked toward the man’s desk and placed some documents onto it – Louis hadn’t even noticed that she was holding them. His eyes followed them and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

The young man sat on the other side of the wooden table-top was mesmerizing, and the pictures Louis had seen of him online didn’t make him justice.

“Thank you, Eleanor.” The man replied and turned his attention to Louis. He had a surprisingly low, deep voice. “I’m Harry Styles, the magazine’s Editor-in-Chief. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

They shook hands as Eleanor left the room, closing the door behind her. She threw one last almost encouraging smile over her shoulder. Maybe she hadn’t meant her previous commentary in a mean way.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir.”

“Please, sit down. And you can call me Harry. ‘Sir’ sounds fit for a man three times my age, don’t you agree?”

Louis laughed politely and took a seat in the chair opposite the other man. Harry Styles was sat back in a relaxed manner and his eyes skimmed through the words on the document pages Eleanor had given him. It was most likely Louis’ resume in his hands. As he waited, he noticed how big Harry’s hands were as he held onto the pages carefully; and how soft and green his eyes were, as he concentrated on his task. Slowly, the man started to frown and purse his pink lips slightly – it couldn’t be a good sign.  

He glanced up at Louis then, raising a questioning eyebrow as he caught him staring. Louis fidgeted on his seat and glanced away.  

“Listen, Louis- may I call you Louis?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Louis, it’s not that you’re not experienced enough. But here it says you’ve never worked in fashion before.”

“That is correct.”

Those green eyes darted over Louis' features, as if he was a creature from outer space that he couldn't figure out.

“Have you ever read our magazine? Or any other fashion based magazine?”

“No, I haven’t, but-”

“Do you think it would all be something easy to just learn overnight?”

“N-no, sir. I just. Well, I came to London to be a journalist and it’s been really hard to get a job. I promise I would work harder than anyone else here.”

Silence filled the room for a few seconds. Louis swore that if a pin dropped, it could be heard as clear as day.

“Are you implying my employees don’t work hard?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

Louis felt lost. It seemed that whatever he said was the wrong thing to say. He took a deep breath and thought about how to express himself properly.

“Not at all. It was just an expression. I apologise.”

The other man stared at him.

“Our Second Executive Assistant is on maternity leave at the moment. You’d be temporarily replacing her on contract. It’s not a writing job, you’d be mostly running errands and assisting Eleanor with whatever she needs. Are you okay with that?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Louis. Ever since our employee left on her license, things have been hectic and we desperately need the help.”

Louis readjusted on his seat, daring to feel hope.

“I understand, don’t worry. I’m a fast learner.”

Harry sighed in defeat and nodded gently.

“All right. Let’s give this a shot for a week or two. See if it works.”

Louis let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you. I’ll prove my worth.”

The man barely spared him another look, turning his attention to other things on his desk.

“We’ll see.”

As Louis left the Editor-in-Chief’s office, ready to come back the next day, Eleanor stood up from behind her desk. She was smiling at him and perhaps had overheard the entire conversation because, then, she gave him a thumbs-up and whispered:

“Welcome to _Grandeur_.”

**

Louis begrudgingly rose the following morning to the strident sound of his alarm clock. He made a few half-arsed attempts to locate his phone between the sheets, to no avail. He decided to let it ring, unprepared to leave his bed.

As soon as he had left the meeting with Harry the day earlier, Eleanor had welcomed him into the magazine. She was very enthusiastic and did not waste any time before informing him of all his responsibilities as the second assistant to the Editor-in-Chief. Needless to say, there were  _a lot_. And, apparently, they had tried hiring other people before him to do the same job, and none had managed to handle the intense workload for more than a couple of weeks. Also, according to Eleanor, even though Harry was the sweetest person alive – which Louis could beg to differ –, he was very demanding as a boss.

Louis had nodded along to her instructions and written down every bit of information he reckoned was important. A small part of him yearned to prove his boss wrong. Maybe even impress him a little bit. Therefore, when Eleanor proposed he start working the following Monday, he waved her off and told her he could be there the very next day. She was thrilled.  

After locating his phone on the floor by the foot of the bed, he turned his alarm off and stumbled outside his room. He tiptoed his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake up his friend Niall and his girlfriend Barbara. Niall worked in a music studio and had late shifts, from mid-afternoon until ten in the evening – he never woke up before noon. Barbara did not live with them, but when she had a day off work modelling she would usually spend the night. They were the sweetest couple.

He had been staying with Niall since he had moved to London a few months back and, even though his friend was patient and never complained about Louis, the man in question knew it was time he found a new place to stay – one of his own. Now that he had a job, he could save up some money and finally move out.  

Keeping this positive thought in mind, he took a quick shower and threw on some dark skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. As he slipped his Vans on and styled his hair, a fleeting thought flew past his eyes that maybe he had forgotten something important. He prayed to the fashion gods he hadn’t.

Louis hurried to leave the flat in time to avoid the rush hour, however, the hands in his watch indicated it was too late. As he drove to work, car engines roared past him while blaring horns awakened every cell in his body. Having come from a small town, Louis was still adapting to the busyness and noise of the big city. Luckily, he still managed to arrive at work on time.

Stopping by the reception to introduce himself, he shook the receptionist’s hand and noticed she wasn’t wearing a name tag.

“What’s your name, love?” He asked kindly.

“Amanda.” She replied.

“I’m Louis. Nice to meet you.” They exchanged polite smiles.  

When he reached the same glass-wall room from the day before, he found Eleanor sitting on her desk and talking on the phone. She glanced briefly at him as he stepped in, but then turned back to her conversation.

“I need a dozen pieces of that skirt for this afternoon.” Her voice was stern.

He didn’t want to bother her and sat down on the desk opposite her.

It was his now. It mirrored Eleanor’s perfectly, except his was empty of personal belongings – such as the colourful pens, pink post its and the personalised mug with Madonna's face on it that decorated her desk – spare a Mac computer on its white, wooden surface which he turned it on as he sat down. The chair was comfortable on his back and he felt at peace with his new office space. Temporary as it was, it belonged to him.   

He startled as Eleanor slammed down the phone.   

“Good morning, Louis.” Her lips turned up faintly, but her brows were knitted in a frown.

“Morning, Eleanor. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. The run-through is today and things are hectic, everybody is stressed out.”

“Oh.” Louis had no idea what that meant.

“Did you get Harry’s tea from Starbucks?” She asked while typing on her computer.

Shit.

“Was I supposed to?” He asked carefully, cocking his head.

Eleanor glared at him from across the room.

“I specifically told you yesterday that was one of your responsibilities.”

Indeed, she had. Louis had been so worried this morning about making it to work on time that this duty of his had completely slipped his mind.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll dash there now.”

He could not believe he had already messed up.

“Do that. Harry will be here any minute now.”

Her fingers drew circles on her temples. It would be unwise to ask her to remind him of the specifics of the order. As he crossed the office’s hallways, he managed to dodge hurrying interns and racks of clothing while flipping through his notes from the day before.

Louis reached the lifts gasping for breath.

“Yes!” He exclaimed upon finding the information he was looking for: Earl Grey with a splash of milk and no sugar.

Before he could press the down-button to the lift, its doors slid open.

Louis inhaled a sharp breath. Harry Styles stood there, amid conversation with an unknown man whose beauty resembled that of a Greek God. The Editor-in-Chief was dressed in well-fitted black suit trousers and a black blazer over a white, barely buttoned-up, almost see-through shirt. Despite his lack of understanding in the realms of fashion, Louis commended himself on his knack of recognising when a man looked breathtakingly fit in his clothes. Sue him for looking.

Harry’s piercing green eyes bore into him blankly. Louis may have been gawking. He took a few steps back to let the men through.

“Good morning, Harry.” He tentatively greeted.

His boss nodded at him, almost dismissively. He walked past Louis while resuming his conversation with the beautiful dark-haired stranger beside him. The stranger briefly acknowledged him with a nod as he followed Harry into his glass-walled office.

_Okay then_. Maybe Harry hadn’t woken up properly yet. Louis reckoned he would not appreciate finding his desk unexpectedly empty of his morning caffeinated drink. After he shuffled into the lift and pressed the button to the ground floor, Louis sagged against the wall. Despite his wish to succeed in this job, success was not on his side.

**

By the time he had returned to the office, Harry was surrounded by editors and assistants. Louis watched, cup of tea in hand, as his boss sifted through racks of clothing and discussed them with the others. Eleanor was inside, frantically tapping her fingers on her iPad desperate to catch Harry’s every word, afraid to miss anything he might say.

Louis stepped in cautiously, hoping to slip in unnoticed. If he could simply place the Styrofoam cup on Harry’s desk and leave as quietly as he had entered, maybe his boss wouldn’t pick up on the absence of his tea up to this point. He had no such luck. As soon as the cup touched the table, the room fell quiet and every eye was fixated on him.

“That’s nice of you to remember, Louis,” Harry stated blankly.

Louis winced.

“It won’t happen again.”

Harry’s reply was one of silence. Louis sighed, trudging over to this desk, tail between his legs. He had phone calls to take and dignity to restore.

That morning – when no one was calling with an urgent matter to resolve with the Editor-in-Chief – Louis grasped each moment he could to study his boss. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the man spoke to his employees and devoted them his full attention. Despite his iciness toward Louis, Harry was patient and kind to everyone else. He respected them as much as they clearly respected him.

When the clock struck noon, the editors and assistants left, except for the beautiful stranger from the lifts. Eleanor joined Louis at his desk, flicking her hair back and smiling down at him.

“We have an hour of lunch, which is a luxury, really.” She informed him delightedly.

“Great, I’m starving,” Louis admitted.

She beamed at him.

“Let’s eat together and you can tell me how you’re holding up so far.”

He nodded, thankful for the company. They grabbed their things and walked together.

“Isn’t Harry going to eat?” He hadn’t left his office since early that morning.

“Zayn’s there now. They’ll probably have lunch together.”

“Who is he, by the way?”

“Zayn? He’s the Editor-at-Large. And one of Harry’s closest friends.”

“He’s cute,” Louis commented, feigning nonchalance. Casually mentioning he was attracted to men to strangers – especially work colleagues – always made him tense.

Eleanor merely giggled.

“He’s fucking gorgeous, you mean?”

They snickered, nudging each other playfully.

Despite their differences regarding fashion, the two assistants had a lot in common. There was not one moment of awkward silence between them during lunch, and they never ran out of subjects to discuss. They had a shared love of the same sitcoms and had been to the same concerts in London. Louis appreciated Eleanor’s stubbornly strong opinion, her wit and her dry sense of humour that mirrored Louis’.

He was glad Eleanor was his colleague. He was afraid that everyone in the magazine would have their noses in the air and treat him the same disregarding way Harry was. It was a relief to be wrong.

Back in the office, an hour later, Harry sat alone at his desk, flipping through a binder’s pages. Before Louis could blink, Eleanor had already grabbed Harry’s schedule and let herself in. She stood straighter now and read through their boss’s afternoon appointments in a quick and efficient manner. Louis admired her astonishing work ethic.

Harry thanked her with a kind smile when she was done. His eyes then found Louis’. Once again, he was caught staring. Louis refused to break eye contact this time, though, holding his boss’s unrelenting stare. That is, until Eleanor shut Harry’s doors behind her and frowned at Louis.

“What are you doing?”

Louis had not moved since they had entered their office. He shook his head, in a futile attempt to clear his head. He didn’t risk a look at Harry for the rest of the day.

It is not like he had an opportunity to. He barely was at his desk all afternoon, leaving the office to run errands all over town for Harry, or frantically delivering messages to different departments within the magazine. By the end of the day, he was exhausted. Eleanor even brought him some tea and smiled at him sympathetically.

He was about to head home when she called him back.

“This is the mock-up of next month’s issue.” She gestured toward a thick, hardcover spiral notebook on top of her desk. “It’s updated every day by every department. It’s extremely important that Harry gets a hold of it every evening before he leaves. If it’s not done by then, it’s your responsibility to deliver it to his house. Alright?”

“His house, as in…”

“Harry’s house.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“It’s all done for today, so I can hand it to him myself. But, you know, for future reference.” She explained.

“No problem. See you tomorrow, El!” He waved her goodbye and walked toward the lifts. He tried not to think about visiting Harry’s home, late at night. Instead, he made a mental note to get his boss’s tea as soon as he’d leave the house the next day.  

**

The first thing he did when he got home was chuck off his Vans, light up a fag and sink into the plush sofa. Niall, and maybe Barbara, would not be home anytime soon. Therefore, there was no one to complain about the boisterous volume of the TV, his shoes and jacket tossed around the living room and the strong smell of cigarettes since he couldn’t bother to smoke by the window.

After a few hours of catching up to his favourite TV shows and chain-smoking to calm himself down, he wondered whether he should order some takeaway and go to bed or simply bash his head against the wall to dull the throbbing headache pounding at his temples. Choosing the former, he phoned the closest Chinese restaurant and placed his order, before throwing away the stubs strewn on the coffee table and opening the window to let in some fresh air. Around nine, the food had barely arrived when Niall and Barbara stumbled in together. He had an arm around her neck and they were leaning against each other, giggling to themselves. They almost walked past Louis and straight into their bedroom, completely oblivious to the world surrounding them. Louis coughed loudly.

Niall stopped abruptly after noticing him. “Oh, hey, mate.”

“Louis!” Barbara grinned. Her face fell once she smelled the air around her, scrunching up her face in disgust. Before she could complain about him smoking inside, though, he wailed:

“Please, don’t let _me_ ruin your moment. Carry on, lovebirds. I’ll just die alone over here.” Louis enjoyed being a dramatic little shit sometimes.  

“Dear God.” Niall rolled his eyes and unwound his arm from around Barbara. Being the lovely human being that she was, she sat beside Louis on the sofa and snuggled close to him, ignoring the stinking air.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Louis told them all about his first day at work and how overwhelming it was there. The phones that never ceased in their ringing and the frenzied errands he had to run; how everyone spoke in a sort of way that was foreign to him and they were never _calm_. There was always an urgent issue that had to be attended to. He also mentioned his mess up and the way Harry had dismissed him entirely, but refrained from sharing his thoughts on his boss’s appearance.

“I know it sounds like I’m moaning – but it wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

“What do you mean?” Barbara asked.

“Managed to keep up, did ye?” Niall smirked with chopsticks in hands and a full mouth. He had sneakily taken Louis’ dinner from him.

“I’m tired as fuck now, but I think I did, yeah. I did my best, at least. That’s all I could have asked for, innit?”

“Definitely, babe.” Barbara chirped.

“Yeah, man, and don’t worry about your boss. He’ll come around eventually when he sees that you did your best, too.” Niall reassured him.

“I don’t know about that. He despises me, I swear.”

“Maybe he’s disgusted by your clothes. I mean, you do work in a fashion magazine. You could put in some effort.” Barbara stood up from the couch as she spoke, sauntering over to the kitchen and grabbing some fruit from the fridge.

“I take offense to that.”   

“Seriously, though. I can help you if you want. I do know a thing or two.” She joked, coming back and settling on Niall’s lap.

“Thanks, love, but I like my clothes just fine.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged.

He did say so. He refused to change who he was because of a job. Even if it meant impressing one Harry Styles.

**

The next few days all ran smoothly – as much as that was possible when the deadline for the magazine’s next issue was approaching quickly. Louis came to work on time every morning and brought with him trays of tea for his boss, Eleanor and himself. He handled everything from purchasing pieces of clothing on the other side of London to his boss’s dry cleaning. Whatever Eleanor needed from him, he would arrange it or tend to it in a heartbeat. She and Louis worked in sync and helped each other out whenever they could. They even started calling themselves the dream team – they thought they were funny.

Employees from other departments began to recognise him in the hallways and greeted him as he strolled past. No one cared about his clothes whenever they came to him with problems to solve – and that was all that mattered. He had even befriended one intern working in wardrobe, Bebe. He had gone over there one afternoon and the two had got on like a house on fire. They had now begun to have lunch together every day.

The only thing that still irked him was Harry Styles. The man was a robot with a switch between two options – he was either sat at his desk, fervently concentrating on mock-up covers, photoshoot stills and things of the sort; or out and about, attending meetings with other departments or visiting renowned designers to inspect their newest pieces. He never once stopped to take a breath. Harry arrived at the office early, sometimes even before everyone else, and usually stayed there until his office light was the only one on.

Louis sometimes got distracted from his work and observed him because Harry truly listened to everyone who talked to him, no matter whether they were important designers or newly-hired interns. He seemed to appreciate their work and he let them know that, Louis noticed, by offering positive feedback and encouraging them to always look for ways to improve.  

Harry was spreading himself thin to make sure the magazine was functioning properly. Louis was baffled. Had he never interacted with Harry, he would’ve believed in his “hard-working Editor-in-Chief who also cared about his employees” persona. However, since day one, Harry had been nothing but harsh to Louis. He rarely acknowledged his existence and, when he did, he had nothing but complaints to make. It was exhausting, really. And no one else noticed around the office – not even Eleanor. If Louis dared moan about Harry’s bitter criticism, his colleague would roll her eyes patronisingly and insist he was overreacting. It was all in his head.

Truthfully, Louis had thought he could be the bigger man, keep his charming smile in place and his cool-headedness in check. Maybe Harry would eventually recognise his worth and pull the stick out of his arse when it came to Louis. It had been a week, though, and he was drained. His frustration toward his boss slowly turned into anger. He did not deserve to be treated as if he was performing poorly. He had never let Eleanor down – tea incident on the first day notwithstanding – and he worked tirelessly to compensate for his lack of knowledge of the fashion industry. Three days after he had started working, Eleanor mentioned that Louis was the best replacement they had hired so far. The previous assistants had reportedly all flipped out at the amount of work which was demanded of them daily and failed eventually. One of them had quit on the first day.

A week later, Louis was flourishing. Why did Harry still see him as a burden?

The following Friday, he had no energy left to smile at Harry. He greeted his boss politely and forwarded him the messages Louis had received while he was out. When Harry called for him, he would carry out his requests and adhere to his instructions carefully, ignoring the man’s nit-picky complaints and no longer expecting to be thanked.

Louis was done trying to impress him.

**

That same afternoon, Eleanor invited him to grab a pint at the pub after work. Other people from the office would also be joining them and Louis was glad he had been welcomed into the group so quickly. He accepted on the spot.

They made their way to the pub together at seven in the evening and found their colleagues already seated in a booth in the corner. Louis was surprised to see Nicholas Grimshaw, the Creative Editor of Grandeur, amongst them.  It was a bit unusual for someone in a managing position to join his employees after work; however, everyone was chatting animatedly and sitting in a relaxed fashion– perhaps they were used to the man’s company in a laid-back atmosphere.

Louis and Eleanor sat down next to each other by the end of the table. Bebe was on his right and greeted the newcomers with a tipsy grin.

“I’m so glad you came, Lou!” She beamed.

He wound his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Of course, love.”

“I’ll be right back.” Eleanor stood up and made her way to the bar.

“This is my girlfriend, Charli.” Bebe turned to the woman beside her.

He shook the girl’s hand.

“Do you do this every week, then?” He wondered aloud.

Bebe shrugged.

“It’s been a while, actually. We try to squeeze in one night every few weeks, to let off steam, you know. Sometimes it’s just impossible, though.”

“She usually gets home so tired that she looks like a fucking zombie.” Charli joked.

“Rude.” Bebe frowned.

“You barely have the energy to take a shower before passing out in bed, darling.” Charli patted her on her thigh. 

Bebe nodded.“That’s true.”

Eleanor returned then, two pints in hand. She carefully placed them down on the table before taking a seat.

“What are we talking about?” She asked the group.

“How we rarely have a social life anymore.” Bebe giggled. “Tonight doesn’t count.” She added as an afterthought.

“Oh, yes.” Eleanor turned to Louis and feigned a serious expression. “Nights like this are a ‘once in a lifetime’ kind of thing.”

Louis nodded solemnly.

“I understand.”

“And that’s why it is very important that you drink a lot.”

“A year’s worth of beer.” Charli chimed in.

“To make up for lost time.” Bebe agreed.

“I will.” Louis was trying not to laugh, hand covering his mouth while he glanced between the girls at the table amusedly.

“Take this seriously, Louis!” Eleanor’s fist slammed the table top.

Their colleagues all turned to them in curiosity. Grimshaw quirked a questioning eyebrow. Louis could not stop giggling along with the ladies around him. He was having a great time and he hadn’t even had a sip of his pint yet.

A few hours and a couple of beers later, Louis was well into tipsy territory. He had tried not to drink too much – especially since he couldn’t afford it – yet his mind was a little clouded anyway and he couldn’t hold a decent conversation without breaking into a fit of laughter.

Eleanor was also drunkenly happy beside him. He knows that at some point in the night they sang a duet of Shawn Mendes’ Lost in Japan. It was beautiful.

Checking his phone, he frowned at the time. It was late and Louis should go home. He walked over to the bar, stumbling a little, and leaned over the counter, waving his arm over his head until a bartender noticed him.

“A glass of tap water, please” Louis ordered over the noise of the pub.

To his surprise, Grimshaw had followed him, hovering close to Louis next to the bar. The man threw Louis a cocky wink and a confident smile.     

“Having fun?” Grimshaw asked.

Louis snorted. They had never talked before. The editor usually brought his issues directly to Eleanor.

“Lots.” He replied easily.

“We haven’t met properly. I’m Nick Grimshaw, the-”

“Creative Editor, I know. Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands.

“You’re quite impressive, you know.” Grimshaw leant against the counter and smirked at Louis.

“How come?” Louis bit back a smile, amused by this entire interaction.

“Well, you barge in knowing fuck-all about fashion like-” He gestured toward Louis’ skinny jeans and T-shirt as if they were personally offending him, “-this. Suddenly, you’re saving everyone’s lives and they’re all in love with you. It’s very interesting.”

“No one is in love with me.” Louis blinked.

Grimshaw scoffed.

“Eleanor would give you her kidney if you asked her kindly. Both of her kidneys, probably.”

“I doubt that very much.”

“And Harry? He’s like a little dog, yapping about-”

The bartender approached them then.

“Here’s your water.” He cut in.

Louis thanked him and turned back to Grimshaw sharply.

“Harry what?”

The man waved him off.

“I should go home.” He straightened up and clapped Louis on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, mate.”

Louis’ lungs were on fire. He took a deep breath in. And then another. What the fuck had Grimshaw been going on about? Harry talked about him? Did he dream up that entire conversation?

He stumbled his way back to their group’s table and sat down in silence.

“Is everything okay, Lou?” Eleanor asked.

“It’s getting late, I think.” He mumbled, replaying Grimshaw’s words in his mind, trying to make sense of them. Harry was like a little dog? What was that even supposed to mean?

“We might leave soon, too. Do you want to share an Uber?” Bebe offered.

“Okay.”

He didn’t mention his conversation with Grimshaw. In fact, he tried not to think about it for the rest of the night. He failed miserably.

**

Harry had talked about him.

Louis wasted several leisurely hours during the weekend overthinking every detail of his interaction with the magazine’s Creative Editor. The man’s comment implied the Editor-in-Chief not only had an opinion to share about Louis, but also that it was possibly a positive one. Louis was hesitant to believe that, though. He would rather not wait for the other shoe to drop. The mere idea of Harry appreciating the work he did was inconceivable – it went against every encounter they had ever had. His boss was a cold man with an icy stare, which was something Louis had been slowly adjusting to. Now, Grimshaw’s off-handed compliment changed things. Because not only was Louis pondering about the truthfulness of Harry’s standoffish attitude toward him, but another question hammered ceaselessly inside his brain:

_What did Harry say about him?_

Louis barely slept the entire weekend. His brain refused to let this matter go. He even considered barging into Harry’s office Monday morning to demand an explanation. He just needed some clarity. It didn’t help that Niall was spending the weekend out with Barbara since the two of them needed some time for themselves – that left Louis all alone, with no one to whine to for two days.

He called his Mum on the first evening.

“I’m glad you found a job, darling,” she had hummed, “but are you sure a fashion magazine is the best fit for you?”

“It’s only temporary.” He sighed. Louis had postponed telling his Mum about the assistant job for that reason precisely.

“I know, I know. But you’re not writing, and your boss sounds like a cranky old man.”

Louis smiled at her protectiveness. He heard the distant clatter of dishes on the other side of the phone. His mother was most likely putting away the plates and silverware from dinner. God, Louis missed being home.

“I miss being home.” He mumbled.

“We miss you too, Lou.”

On Sunday, Louis busied himself with reality TV and several open tabs on his laptop about the fashion industry. He enjoyed reading up on the history of it, even if it essentially didn’t improve his performance at work. It made him feel useful. Also, it prevented him from doing some unnecessary overthinking. Well, mostly. His stubborn mind insisted on pressing the same key, every chance it could. Because if Harry noticed his work, he knew that his harshness toward Louis was uncalled for. _Then what was his fucking problem?_

When Monday came, Louis was restless.

He had considered confronting Harry, no matter how stupid that would be. The man was his boss and barely seemed to tolerate him – Louis would without question end up fired. Still, he itched to slam Harry’s double doors behind him and give him a good talking to. Therefore, when the man in question arrived at the office, Louis had to take a few deep breaths before handing his boss his cup of tea, a blindingly fake smile etched on his face.

The smile faded and was replaced by a frown as Louis took in Harry’s appearance. It’s not that he didn’t look impeccable in his designer clothes – the man always pulled off wearing bright, colourful patterns and glittery boots. His face, on the other hand, told a different story. He had dark circles under his eyelids and, every time he blinked, Louis worried he would not open his eyes again. Even his hair reflected his fatigue – his dark curls, usually tousled and brightly healthy, had lost their spark and fell messily around his pale cheeks.

As Harry crossed the office toward his desk, Louis noticed the man’s hunched back was tense and his head was lowered – he doubted his boss had rested for a mere second since he had left the office on Friday.  

Louis averted his gaze. If Harry had thought he was doing his company any favours by working himself to death, then that was his problem. It wasn’t Louis’ place to meddle. But he couldn’t help but chance a glance at Eleanor all the way across the room. She had been watching as well from her desk.

“I know.” She whispered once their eyes met. “I worry too.”

“Should we say anything?” Louis asked hesitantly.

She shrugged her shoulders, desolated. “He never listens.”

Harry worked as he usually would that day. He held his meetings with a convincing grin plastered to his face and solved one problem after the other. Every now and then he would roll his eyes at Eleanor, who watched him attentively, and he would mumble: “I’m fine”, but the assistant didn’t feel reassured.

Meanwhile, Louis pretended he didn’t care. Whereas Eleanor walked on eggshells with their boss, he treated Harry the same as any other day. He gave him his messages, ran errands for him and assisted Eleanor with arranging his schedule. Louis was a professional and Harry had never done anything to deserve his sympathy.

When the clock struck five, most Grandeur employees gathered their things and got ready to go home. Some had unfinished tasks to tend to and would stay until they were done, but Louis wasn’t one of them. He and Eleanor were a tight team and there was not one unticked item on their list of responsibilities for the day. It goes without saying that Louis was exhausted. He couldn’t wait to go home.

That’s when Eleanor reappeared from where she had been for the past half hour, biting her lip and screwing up her face guiltily at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Louis narrowed his eyes into slits.

“The mock-up isn’t ready yet.” She explained, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Grimshaw’s department is making some final tweaks.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry. That usually happens when the issue is close to publishing. You’re going to have to wait for it.” She winced.

“Don’t worry, love.” He reassured her. “It’s my job.”

She sighed, relieved, before grabbing her things from her desk. She put her coat on and elaborated:

“If the book is delivered before Harry leaves, you just have to hand it to him. He’s still in his office, but I hope he leaves soon.”

“I doubt he will.” Louis forced a smile. Harry had been glued to his desk ever since lunch.

_You don’t care about him. You don’t care about him._

“Me too. Oh well, in any case, his address is on our shared folder on Google Drive. I’ve gotta go.” She put her scarf on and pulled her long, wavy hair from underneath the silky cloth. “Thanks, Lou, I appreciate it.”

After she had left, Louis sagged into his chair. It could take only a few minutes – or it could take hours. There was no way of knowing. Resigned to his task, Louis turned his computer back on and opened a new blank document. If he had to work late, he should at least be productive. As a way to distract himself, he began to write.

Ever since moving down to London, he hadn’t written anything. Writing was his passion and was how he made a living after he had graduated six years ago. He was good at it – great, in fact. Despite that, though, he hadn’t put a pen to paper in months. He had spent so much time worrying about finding a job and paying his bills that he hadn’t made time for one of the most important things in his life.

As the employees left the office one by one, Louis wrote. He barely noticed the building slowly become quiet and empty, distractedly waving a hand to those who came to the door to say goodbye. For the first time in a while, he was focused and he was creating. He wasn’t running across town and buying garments upon garments – no, he was creating something from scratch. He enjoyed working at _Grandeur_ , he did. But this, putting his ideas into words and crafting beautiful sentences that would eventually reach other people;  _that_ was thrilling to him.

He knew being an executive assistant was only temporary and that it would open many doors for the future for him. He appreciated that. But he wasn’t involved in the creation part of the fashion industry. Harry Styles, Nicholas Grimshaw, and Zayn Malik were. They put together hundreds of pages of fashion editorials and complex essays each month, and Louis provided the coffee.

He stole a glance at his boss’ office. The man in question was leaning forward over his desk, his eyes roaming the computer screen as he pressed the keyboard keys furiously. He could be writing an email, a speech for an event or an essay for the magazine – Louis didn’t know. Harry was always giving so much of himself, spreading himself thin with a thousand promises and commitments that he made on a daily basis. He had to be exhausted.

Louis checked his watch and widened his eyes, startled at the time. 8:07 pm. The last few hours had been nothing but a blink to him. He had managed to write a few pages that he was proud of, but it was late. He wanted to go home. However, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, since Grimshaw hadn’t appeared yet and Harry showed no signs of getting ready to leave.

Giving in to an impulsive decision, Louis stood up from his desk and left the office. He stopped by the reception and sent Amanda a sweet smile. He knew she wouldn’t leave until the last person there did.

“Do you mind transferring Harry’s calls here? I’ll be right back.”

“You got it.” She winked playfully.

Ten minutes later, he was crossing the magazine’s hallways with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He reached Harry’s double doors and knocked lightly on them.

“Come in,” He heard from the inside. A shiver ran through his spine at Harry’s raspy voice. It didn’t sound as stern as it usually did – as if it became a little bit soft, perhaps even vulnerable, after the sunset.

Louis opened the door and peered in cautiously.

“What can I do for you, Louis?” His boss asked, without looking up.

“I brought you this.” Louis carefully lowered the cup onto the table and waited for a reaction. Harry stilled his movements and his eyes pierced the drink in front of him.

“What is this?” He asked slowly. He was frowning at the cup, as though it was offending him.

“Chamomile tea,” Louis answered.

Harry’s eyes didn’t stray away from the cup of tea.

“Why’d you get me this?” His voice was trembling a little.

“You look like you need it.” Louis shrugged.

Harry pouted. “It’ll make me sleepy.”

Louis paused. He couldn’t believe the man in front of him.

“It’s good for stress. It calms you.” He explained patiently, as though he was talking to a stubborn toddler.

Harry said nothing. Louis pushed the cup forward in his direction.

“Go ahead, take a sip or two.”

His boss avoided Louis’ eyes as he stretched his hand towards the tea. He took a few small sips before setting it back down.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“What are you still doing here?” Harry asked.

“Waiting for the mock-up, actually.” Louis gestured vaguely in the direction of the creative department.

“Oh. Don’t worry about it, I can get that. Go home.” The man brought the cup back to his lips and drank a bit more.

Louis huffed. “I don’t think so.”

Harry frowned at him.

“Excuse me?”

Louis blanched.

“I’m sorry, it’s just. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

The thing is, Louis had no idea why. He had just blurted it out without thinking. He could take up Harry’s offer and finally go home – the plan was to have a shower and eat dinner in front of the telly before passing out in bed. He had been looking forward to that all day. He knew, however, that if he went home right then, Harry would just keep working. His boss simply couldn’t stop even though he had no ounce of energy left in him.

And, despite the way the man had treated him since day one, Louis couldn’t allow that.

“Because it’s late.” It’s what he finally decided on, shrugging. “It’s late, Harry, and you’re worn out.”

His boss managed to frown and pout at the same time, like a disgruntled kitten. A small part of Louis’ mind that refused to be quiet found it endearing.

“That’s none of your business, Louis.”

“I know. Trust me, I do.” Louis breathed in heavily. “But I’m here anyway. And I won’t leave unless you come with me.”

“I could fire you.”

“Yes, but that’s even more work for you to do. And you’re hanging by a thread as it is.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. His expression was unreadable.

“Why do you care?”

Before Louis could answer, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, boss. It’s done.” Grimshaw walked in with the mock-up in hand. He dropped it on top of Harry’s desk and winked at Louis on his way out. “Working late, huh?”

He was gone before Louis could open his mouth to reply.

Both men in the room were silent. Their eyes were glued to the book, as tension simmered in the air between them.

“Fine.” Harry conceded, at last. He got up from his chair and his bleary eyes found Louis’. “Let’s go.”

They each grabbed their things and walked side by side toward the lifts. For a brief moment, their arms brushed against each other and Louis’ breath got stuck in his throat, which he decidedly ignored.

They bid Amanda goodnight once they reached the front desk and stepped into the lifts together. Harry sagged against the wall and sighed. Louis remained stiff, looking forward.

“I don’t know why I care.” He mumbled. “But I do.”

The doors slid open and Louis walked briskly away from his boss. On the drive home, he felt the weight of his words. Because despite the way Harry treated him, despite his cold demeanour and his harsh words, there was something that pulled Louis toward him and made him care. Something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, something hidden behind Harry’s self-assured attitude. Something that told him his boss could use a friend.

**

Louis had to work late every day of the following week.

With the next issue so close to being published, everyone in the office had to work day and night to meet the deadlines – and each department had to quicken its pace to make sure they would deliver their sections before they were due.

Even though Louis and Eleanor mostly worried about Harry and his responsibilities, it was still a chaotic time for them. The first assistant arrived earlier than usual every morning to guarantee Harry’s appointments were in order and prepare for the day, whereas the second assistant stayed late after work waiting for the mock-up book in order to ensure it would reach the Editor-in-Chief’s hands intact.

Every evening Harry would approach him after five o’clock and insist Louis went home.

“I have to work late, anyway.” His boss would explain. “I can wait for the book.”

Louis never gave in.

“I won’t encourage your unhealthy habits, Harold.” He countered every time. “If you’re staying, then so am I.”

“That’s not my name.” His boss would reply religiously, with a pout, before leaving him to it.

Over the days, they built this routine during which he and Harry would bicker about the book until Louis would win by wearing him out. After that, Louis would go back to his desk and write his essays while his boss worked silently in his office, hidden behind his computer screen. As soon as the book was delivered by Grimshaw to their hands directly, the two men would head out together – usually no later than nine in the evening.

Because of that, Louis no longer dreaded coming to work. Even though Harry would still not acknowledge him during the day, he had finally laid off Louis’ back. He stopped fussing over minimal details and, somehow, he started trusting more. He didn’t ask Eleanor to double-check Louis’ arrangements and gave him more responsibilities to deal with. The changes were small, but their impact on Louis was huge. He could breathe easier.

The last night before the publishing of the November issue, Louis was putting his coat on when Harry walked over to his desk. He lowered the mock-up book, which was nearly done and about to be published, onto Louis’ desktop and blinked tiredly at him.

“I have to hit the loo before we go. Meet you by the lifts?” He voiced the question timidly, surprising Louis.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied.

They always left the building together, but as an unspoken agreement between them. Louis’ stomach fluttered at the fact that his boss cared enough to ask him to wait for him.   

He grabbed the mock-up and his things and crossed the empty hallways toward the reception. His steps echoed on the walls and the lightbulbs above him were dim, casting shadows on the corners and turning the atmosphere eerie. He quickened his pace and let out a relieved sigh when he found Amanda sitting behind the front desk, typing on her phone.

“It’s awfully creepy in here at night, innit?” He complained in a whisper.

She laughed at him.

“I guess I’m used to it by now.”

Louis frowned.

“Why doesn’t Harry send you home at night?” It was unlike his boss to demand the receptionist stay after her shift was over.

“Trust me, he tries. I can’t do that, though. He would most likely spend the night here if he was alone.”

“That’s not hard to imagine, actually.”

“Oh, he’s done it before. I caught him once when I came to open the office the next morning. He looked like shit, I felt really bad for him. That’s why I stay now.”

“That’s terribly kind of you, love.”

She scoffed lightly, a smile spreading over her face.

“Tell me about it. He used to make me wait around until midnight.” She looked him up and down with a gleam in her eyes. “He leaves early for you, though.”  

“What is that supposed to mean?” He sputtered.

Amanda shrugged, feigning innocence.

“I’m just saying.”

Harry showed up then, wrapped in a scarf and clutching his Gucci messenger bag.

“Shall we?” He asked.

Louis nodded distractedly. Once again, someone in this office had thrown him off completely – and, once again, Harry was involved.

One thing was certain, though. Louis’ presence, for some reason, influenced Harry to go home early every night – and he didn’t know what to do with that information.

**

The day following the November issue’s release was just as frenzied.

Each department focused on preparing for the fashion editorials and the essays they would cover on the next issue. Louis followed Harry around the entire day as the man sat through creative meetings and discussed the next steps they would take.

As he jotted down every word that was said, Louis tried to mask his astonishment. The December issue was already planned out – and so were the six others after that. In one meeting, the Editor-in-Chief, the Editor-at-Large, and the Creative Editor outlined several aspects belonging to each month’s issue and threw ideas back and forth amongst each other. There were photo shoots to produce, famous people to find to feature on the next few covers and trends to discuss.

By the end of the day, Louis’ body was sore as though he had run a marathon. His head was throbbing and every sound louder than a whisper made him wince in pain. He was slumped in his chair when he heard Eleanor yawn from hers.

“I’m done for the day.” She smiled dopily; her head leaned back, resting comfortably in the back of the chair.

Louis flicked his eyes toward Harry’s office. The man in question was still up to his eyes in paperwork and Louis was certain he would not be leaving any time soon. He sighed, knowing what he had to do.

“I think I might stay a little while longer if that’s okay.” Louis decided, sitting up in his chair. He had to be alert for the next few hours.

“Why?” Eleanor had a puzzled look on her face.

“I like the quiet in here, it helps me to write.”

She squeezed his arm as she passed him by, leaving with her purse over the shoulder.

“That’s great, Lou. I want to read some of that soon!” Her cheery voice faded as she walked away from the office.

He chuckled amusedly before casting another glance toward Harry. The man’s posture would make any physiotherapist cringe in horror. As it was his new habit, Louis left the building and dropped by the nearest café to grab him, Harry and Amanda some well-deserved cups of tea. He stopped by the receptionist’s desk on the way back and leaned his elbows on the wooden top, jutting his hips out.

“This is for you.” He handed one of the cups to the smiling woman.

“You’re an angel.” She grabbed it from him.  

“Amanda, would you mind helping me with the printer? That horrible thing despises me, I swear, it simply refuses to work. I should get another-” Harry had come down the hallway with his head down as his eyes scanned the pages and pages of paper he was holding. He spoke distractedly and tilted his head up at the last second, noticing Louis’ presence and stilling in his movements. “-What are you doing here?”

Louis arched a sly eyebrow. Hadn’t he known Harry was straight, he would think the man’s eyes were focused on his bum.

“I could ask you the same.”

Frustration crinkled in Harry’s eyes.

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s no more book. Nick already gave it to me hours ago. _There’s no more book_.” He stressed the last sentence.

Louis straightened up and grabbed the remaining two cups of tea from the tray, before throwing it out in the bin. He handed Harry his tea and patted him on the arm as he strolled past him.

“Don’t worry, love. I won’t get in your way.”

By the time Harry walked into the glass-walled room, problems with the printer forgotten, Louis was already sat on his chair, sipping his tea in peace. The man came to a halt by the door and squinted at Louis. His lips parted and he breathed in as though he was about to say something. He exhaled a moment later, though, shaking his head and resuming his walk back to his desk. Louis held back a laugh.

“Let me know when we’re ready to go.” He chirped, loudly enough so Harry could hear from his office.

He was met with no replies.

A few minutes after nine o’clock that evening, Harry turned off the lights in his office.

**

It became their thing.

As long as Louis was there, Harry was forced to leave at a reasonable hour – at least for his standards. They never talked. Louis brought them tea and they worked in silence. After the first few days, Amanda decided she was no longer needed and started clocking out at five o’clock along with most employees. She was worried at first, until Louis reassured her multiple times that he was capable of locking up the office every evening with no problems whatsoever.   

The following evening, they were alone for the first time. Nothing different happened at first. As they headed out, Harry held the lift open while Louis pulled out his shiny new key to lock up the entrance. He couldn’t turn the key, though. He tried in different ways and began to get frustrated – huffing indignantly as sweat trickled down his back.

“This fucking piece of shit.” He blurted out in annoyance. But before he could worry about cursing in front of his boss, Harry let out an amused chuckle.

“Let me help.” He guided Louis to the side with a gentle hand on his waist, before turning the key easily and locking the doors securely. Harry winked at him. “You have to find the right angle.”

Louis’ pupils dilated. He was at a loss for words.

And that was the only problem with his plan. The amount of time he had to spend with his ridiculously attractive boss – a straight guy, for that matter. Because besides that, it was a near perfect arrangement. He was writing every day, his boss no longer had dark circles under his eyes and even Niall benefited from it all, since he had the flat to himself more.

He shook himself out of it. Dealing with Harry’s forest green eyes and lovely dimples was a small price to pay, all things considered.

They stepped into the lift and Harry pressed the button to the ground floor. Their eyes met for a second before Louis lowered his gaze. He felt more than heard his boss sigh beside him.

“I’m sorry.” The man said softly.  

Louis’ head turned toward him sharply.

“What for?”

“I was rude to you. In the beginning, I-” Harry tried to explain, but Louis interrupted.

“You don’t have to apologise, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s really not. I said I would I give you a chance and I never truly did. I had my mind made up and I was rude to you. It wasn’t fair.” Harry edged closer to him and his eyes were full of anguish. Louis urged to touch him, to comfort him; nevertheless, he kept his hands to himself and simply tilted his head to the side, listening. “I’m really sorry. I think you’re an excellent employee. I’d be lost without you. And Eleanor, of course. But-”

Louis chuckled.

“I get it, yeah. Thanks, Harry. That means a lot.”

Harry’s face lit up with a toothy smile. It was perhaps the first time Louis had seen him express genuine joy and nothing in the entire world would make him avert his gaze. He watched, mesmerized, as his boss’ cheeks burned, coloured in pink, and his eyes gleamed like those of an exciting child on Christmas morning.  

Fuck. He was so screwed he couldn’t believe it.  

**

They started talking.

It happened naturally over the days. After Harry’s apology, they changed their dynamics, how they acted around each other. Harry’s eyes searched for him during office hours – he asked for Louis’ opinion on a location for a photo shoot, he showed him the spreads he had created for the December issue, or he simply found his eyes across the room and smiled kindly at him. As though they shared a secret.

It escalated from that after they ordered takeout for the first time. Louis had been starving that night, as he usually was when he worked late, and he made sure to complain from his desk loud enough to reach his boss.

“I might actually die.” He sobbed dramatically.

“We could order something,” Harry suggested, without taking his eyes off the screen.

Louis didn’t have to be told twice. Half an hour later, they were sat in Harry’s office eating vegetarian burgers.

“This is disgusting.” He complained.

“You wanted food. Don’t be fussy.” Harry teased.

Louis’ jaw was slack in shock, even though he had just bitten into a large piece of the burger.

“How DARE you?” He bellowed with his mouth full.

“ _You’re_ disgusting, oh my God!” Harry laughed to his face, the little shit.

Louis swallowed the food and enjoyed the sound of the other man giggling. He had never felt lighter.

They continued eating together most nights. Their friendship grew after every meal. Harry slowly started sharing bits about his past – his modelling career and his childhood as Anne Cox’s son. His mother was a fashion icon, the most influential person in the fashion industry and an entrepreneur who built _Grandeur_ magazine from scratch, creating an empire as her legacy. Her family’s legacy, which was now in Harry’s hands.

“I just want to make her proud.” He mumbled one night. He had been staring out the window for a while, deep in thoughts, as Louis ate quietly beside him. “She sacrificed so much to raise me and my sister Gemma. She faced so many challenges and she never gave up.”

“She’s an incredible woman, Harry.” Louis squeezed his arm, grounding him.

“She retired early to be with her husband, you know. Robin was sick and she was so worried. She wanted to spend more time with him.”

Louis nodded for him to go on.

“My Mum knew this had always been my dream. I used to sit in this chair and pretend I was her.” He shook his head, laughing airily at himself.

“Is that why you put so much pressure on yourself?” Louis asked.

“Maybe. But I love what I do. I love giving my all to this magazine.” Harry sighed. His eyes were warm as an unrecognisable expression flitted across his face. He ran his rings-adorned fingers through his curls and blinked at Louis, waiting. _Waiting for what?_

Louis didn’t know what to say.

“Maybe you should keep a little bit to yourself.” He replied after a few beats, his voice but a whisper.

It had been two years. Harry had been the new Editor-in-Chief for two years now. The transition had been smooth – everyone in the magazine adored him as a boss, they sold as many issues a month as they had always been, if not more, and the number of shareholders had increased. The board was satisfied, Anne was most likely bursting with pride and Harry didn’t see that.

“I don’t know how.” Harry also whispered beside him.

Louis’ eyes lit up with an idea. There was a mischievous tilt to his grin.

“I think I can help you with that.”

**

“No, absolutely not.” Harry shook his head vehemently.

“Harry, come on!” Louis insisted for the hundredth time.

It was Friday night and some people from the magazine had agreed to meet at the pub for some pints. Louis’ grand idea, which Harry refused to abide by, was to join them and have some fun. He knew his boss hadn’t been out in a while, since he was always working, and tonight was the perfect opportunity to change that.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t cooperating. Both men were standing outside the pub, freezing to death, while they argued.  

“This is a bad idea, Lou. I should-” Harry started.

“If you say ‘I should go home’ one more time, Harry, I swear to God I will murder you right here in the middle of the street.”

Harry pouted.

“Just come sit with us for an hour or so. You don’t have to stay longer than that.” Louis compromised, batting his eyelashes persuasively.

The man rolled his eyes and threw his head back, exhaling in frustration.

“Fine.” He conceded. “I won’t be drinking, though.”

“Of course not, love.” He definitely would.

Louis held the entrance door open for Harry and their eyes scanned the crowded pub in search of their friends. Most tables and booths were filled with groups of people clinking their pints together and cheering as the sound of uproarious laughter and excited chatter reverberated across the room.

Searching for a familiar face amongst that sea of strangers was an impossible task. He turned to Harry to complain and startled at how close they were standing to each other. Louis’ eyes rounded on the man’s lips and he noticed his boss was saying something that couldn’t be heard over the noise. He stood on his tiptoes and leaned close to Harry’s ear.

“What did you say?” He asked, loud enough for the other man to hear.

“I spotted them. Follow me.” The faint touch of Harry’s lips against Louis’ earlobe sent shivers through his spine. His head went fuzzy and warm and he didn’t register when his boss grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, guiding him through the crowd. They soon reached a long wooden table surrounded by chairs pushed closely together to fit their entire group. Harry loosened the hold on his hand.

Eleanor, Bebe and everyone else were already seated. Every pair of eyes present glanced up to find out who had arrived.

“I can’t believe this!” Eleanor exclaimed, upon seeing her boss. She stood up from her seat and enveloped the curly-haired man in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you came, Harry.”

Louis grinned at them, pleased with himself. Bebe slapped him lightly from beside him. She had also risen to her feet to hug him.  

“You brought Harry!” She shrieked in delight.

The other designers and interns all clapped him on the back after that, as a way of greeting. Apparently, he had achieved the impossible.

When everyone returned to their seats, Louis and Harry grabbed a couple of empty chairs from nearby and sat side by side on the far corner of the table, next to Eleanor and Bebe. Some employees from the opposite corner beckoned Harry over to sit with them, but the man shook his head politely.

“I’ll join you later, all right?” He promised. Louis’ stomach fluttered at that. Even though Harry had come with him, he was allowed to sit wherever he wanted and with whomever – yet, he had chosen to stay close to Louis.

Meanwhile, their thighs were pressed together due to the proximity of everyone’s chairs and Harry didn’t seem to mind. The man sat back in his chair in a relaxed manner and accepted one of the ice-cold pints offered to both him and Louis.

Louis grabbed the other and downed half of it in a few big gulps.

“You alright there?” Harry laughed, eyebrows raised in amazement.

“Yeah, mate.” Louis lowered his pint onto the table. He needed to distract himself from his boss’ plush lips and wide, green eyes. Maybe coming to the pub was a terrible idea after all. Especially considering the amount of alcohol they were likely to consume. He could easily let it slip how gorgeous he found Harry and be fired on the spot. Before he could worry too much, though, the other man’s hand squeezed his arm gently.

“Take it easy on the beer, then, _mate_ ,” Harry replied jokingly, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

Louis gulped, not knowing how to respond. He was treading dangerous territory at that moment and he might risk everything, given a chance.

The imprint of Harry’s hand burned his skin after the man pulled away, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and shrinking in on himself. And no, Louis wouldn’t have that. He had brought his boss along for the sole purpose of helping him to have fun. That was his plan – have a few pints and share some good laughs. It was a good plan. As long as he followed it through the night, it would be all right.  

But staring at his boss with a watering mouth was definitely not part of it. Louis straightened up in his chair and grinned mischievously at Harry. He poked his cheek where he knew a dimple was hidden until the man’s lips curled upward in a shy smile.

“Lighten up, love,” Louis said softly.

Harry’s smile grew larger and he nodded, taking a few more sips from his beer. They would be just fine.

They were, at first.

Louis was a chatty person and enjoyed talking to his colleagues. He had interacted with most of them in the office at least once and easily joined in on different conversations around the table. Beside him, Harry made an equal effort to get to know his employees better and, even though he was a superior to them, they all welcomed him warmly. Maybe because he was too charming to resist. Louis wouldn’t know.  

However, as the night progressed and he and Harry got tipsier, the dynamics changed. The two men lost interest in the rest of the table – the rest of the world, really – and slowly turned their attention to each other. Louis was enraptured by every word that came out of Harry’s mouth and the other man never averted his gaze. Eleanor, Bebe, and the others eventually realised there was no point in trying to strike a conversation with them and left them alone. But it wasn’t just that. There were touches. Louis’ hand had been stretched behind the back of Harry’s chair for a while now and, whenever his boss leaned back, his shoulder blades pressed against Louis’ arm.

Louis’ fingertips longed to curl around the curly-haired man’s shoulder and pull him against his chest. Thankfully, his drunk-self knew that would be going too far.

They were interrupted sometimes. Complete strangers approached Harry and asked him for an autograph or a picture together. The man was kind and patient with them, standing up every time and asking Louis to snap the pictures. Despite being annoyed by the disturbance and strongly believing those people should respect Harry’s space, Louis couldn’t help but admire the man in front of him, who was ever so kind to others only for the sake of being kind.

Some of those fans were women. Beautiful women, with flirty smiles and pieces of paper with their digits scribbled on them. They touched Harry’s arm and complimented him, even making him blush. Louis itched to tell them to go away, that Harry wasn’t interested, but he kept his head low and let it happen. It wasn’t his place to say anything, considering it might not even be true. The man was known by everyone in the media as a womanizer, being seen with different women constantly. Maybe Louis had misunderstood the curly-haired man’s actions. Maybe Harry had seen right through him, seen his assistant’s interest in him, and thought he could have a laugh messing with his feelings.

But Louis refused to believe that. Harry was a loving soul and wouldn’t hurt a fly. That was only proved further by the man turning down every number given to him with a polite excuse and an honest apology. The women took it in stride, walking away and moving on, while Harry sat back down with his cheeks on fire.

“You’re quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you?” Louis teased.

Harry’s cheeks turned into an even deeper shade of pink.

“How come you’re not interested in any of them, Harry? Some of them were cute.” Bebe questioned without any qualms.

Harry widened his eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. A few employees turned their heads toward them, curiously paying attention. Louis urged to wrap his arms around the curly-haired man and tell everyone to fuck off.

“Uh- I, well, I’m not, uh, they’re not. Uh, they’re not my type, I guess?” Harry shrugged noncommittally.

“Leave him alone, Bebe, he’s probably too busy thinking about work.” Louis defended him while trying to keep it light with a joke at the same time.

“I wouldn’t call you that.” She replied slyly.

Both he and Harry choked on their drinks.

“I-uh, I’m gonna go out for a fag,” Louis mumbled, pushing his chair back clumsily and rising to his feet. Some fresh air would come in handy now.

As he crossed the pub toward the exit, overwhelming thoughts flashed in his mind. Despite their bumpy start and the fact that Harry was his boss, Louis liked him. More than sexual attraction, there were actual feelings involved. As in, he wanted to braid Harry’s hair while they watched the sun set, cook him fancy meals even though he was terrible at it and hold his hand while they walked down the street to buy soap at the grocery store. It was the little things that Louis yearned for the most.

He was in trouble, to say the least.

After walking outside, the chilly night air filled his lungs and sobered him up a little. He breathed it in slowly and leaned against the wall, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lighting it up with shaky hands. He had taken a few drags when the door to the pub opened again.

It was Harry.

Louis was mesmerized by the sight. Despite being with the man almost every day of the week, the air still caught on his throat from time to time. The way his long legs went on for ages on his skin-tight black jeans and the way his silk shirt was barely buttoned up, displaying his tattoo-covered chest – it should be illegal.

However, what made Louis weak in the knees the most, was his face. His lips, so pink and soft, told a story of their own. They were harsh decisions and brilliant ideas; they were confident smirks and shy smiles; they were kind and lonely at the same time. His jaw, on the other hand, could cut into glass and wreck a thousand worlds. His dark hair curled around his ears and fell on his forehead so gently it resembled a painting, carefully traced with a fine brush and the attentive hands of an artist. But his eyes, they were the most expressive. They held back at work, hiding fear and insecurities – at least at a first glance. Looking closely, the forest green of his irises breathed with life. Vulnerability, passion, and strength all swam in its depths and invited Louis in. They were the eyes of someone who was scared and brave at the same time.

Eyes which had spotted Louis now and walked toward him.

“Hey.” Harry smiled hesitantly. He halted in his steps as he got closer, as though he was afraid to get too close.

“Come here.” Louis beckoned him. He held his free arm up and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders when the man got within reach. Harry let himself be manhandled easily, pliant to the other man’s touch.

“It’s cold out here,” Harry whispered, his body shivering.

Louis rubbed his arm up and down in an attempt to warm him while taking a drag from his cigarette with his other hand. He didn’t say anything. They knew each other long enough that they could share a few moments of silence without it being awkward.

“How are you feeling?” Louis broke the silence after a while.

Harry didn’t reply. He took a step back, far enough to look at the other man in the eye, but still so close that they could breathe each other’s air. Despite having drunk quite a few pints, his eyes were sharp and clear, gazing into Louis’ with intensity.

Surprisingly, the street was quiet and empty around them. It wasn’t that late in the evening – the universe might have simply smiled at them, perhaps granting them a wish.  

Slowly, quietly and carefully, Harry leaned in. His chapped lips pressed against Louis’ in the sweetest kiss the man had even been given. Both of them had ever been given. Louis kissed back, letting the cigarette fall to the ground as he gently held the curly-haired man’s cheeks with both hands and butterflies fluttered around in his belly.

As they kissed, Harry’s hands found Louis’ waist and he pushed closer, pressing Louis against the brick wall behind him. It escalated from that. Louis’ tongue pressed against the other man’s lips until they opened, deepening the kiss. Tongues clashed, breaths became heavy pants and slow hands turned into desperate touches, grabbing shirts and running through curls.

They pulled slightly apart whenever they ran out of breath, only to search for each other’s lips again after a few seconds, as though they couldn’t stand to be separated for too long. They were still drunk and it was messy. But it was also passionate and intense; setting Louis’ whole body on fire and leaving him with the certainty he would never feel this good again.

His eyes rolled back when Harry’s hips pushed against his, spreading heat in his groin as the blood rushed down. His nails scratched the curly-haired man’s hot skin underneath the back of his shirt, coaxing out breathy moans from him and making him push even closer to Louis. The sound was obscene. Louis wanted to hear it again.

The door to the pub opened then, the raucous sounds from the inside bursting out and startling the men apart. Harry wiped his lips with his hand while Louis adjusted himself in his jeans. They avoided each other’s eyes. Still leaning against the wall, Louis chanced a look at the group of people who had just left the pub. They were clearly off their faces and hadn’t even noticed the two of them in the shadowed corner.

The spell was broken, though.

Finally meeting Harry’s eyes, he frowned. The man’s face was flooding with fear and shame, and Louis couldn’t have that.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He took a step forward, reaching out to hold Harry’s hand. The man stumbled backward, wide-eyed.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Before he could blink, Harry was gone, slamming the doors to the pub behind him and leaving Louis with ringing ears and a hole in his chest.

He couldn’t just stay there, though. After a few calming breaths and pulling on his jeans once again, Louis made his way inside as well, going straight to the bar to order another pint for himself. Bebe joined him a second later.  

“Did something happen outside?” She asked, with big, round eyes.

“How the fuck did you know?” He glanced back at the others, fearing they would have been paying attention too, but the entire table was too drunk to care or notice, really.

“Are you kidding? You two were being so obvious.”

“Yeah, well,” he thanked the barman for the pint and turned back to the girl, “it doesn’t matter now. Please, don’t go around spreading any rumours, all right?”

She held him by both shoulders, shaking him a little.

“Louis! I asked because I care about you.” She let him go, a sad look on her face. “It’s none of my business, though. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. He freaked out on me and I’m taking out on you.”

Bebe winced sympathetically.

“I get it.” She glanced over his shoulder. “He’s coming back from the loo, though. Should I go?”

“No, that’s fine.”

Louis took a sip from his pint and relief washed over him along with the sour taste. He did not want to be sober right now. He heard a familiar raspy voice from his left.

“Hey.”

Louis turned to look at him and was immediately filled with worry. The man’s eyes were a bit swollen and red – he had been crying.

“Hey.” He replied softly.

“I’m leaving. Would you mind telling everyone I said bye? I’m exhausted.” He was looking at his own feet, so it was hard to know who he was talking to, but Bebe nodded immediately.

“Will do, boss.”

She left, then. Harry looked up at Louis hesitantly.

“I called an Uber already.” His voice was faint, barely more than a whisper. Louis struggled to hear him over the noise of the pub.

“That’s good. Safe. Yeah.” Louis rambled. He had no idea of what the best thing to say in this type of situation was. He wanted to cuddle the other man and press gentle kisses to his spine – but that obviously wasn’t an option.

“See you on Monday,” Harry mumbled, turning around and leaving.

And that just wouldn’t do. Louis followed him outside.

“Harry, wait.” He called out in the sidewalk, charging towards him. Harry turned around, eyes wide in surprise.

Glancing around to make sure they were alone in the street, Louis pressed close to the other man and kissed him gently, delicately holding him still with his hands on the nape of his neck. Harry kissed him back, before pulling away quickly.

“I can’t do this, Lou.” His eyes were pooling with tears.

“I understand.” He couldn’t let go of the curly-haired man, keeping him close and breathing him in. “But I’m here for you, all right?”

Harry sobbed, leaning in and kissing him heatedly. The tears fell down his cheeks and Louis could taste their salty flavour on his tongue as they became a mess together, grabbing onto each other and refusing to let it end.

As the sound of an engine grew louder, they managed to pull away from the kiss. Harry wiped his cheeks and lowered his head, shadowing his face. It was heartbreaking to watch. Louis took a few steps backward, the other man never leaving his sight. When the car pulled up, Harry stumbled in and left without another word.

Louis watched as the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the road. He blinked away the tears when he realised the headlights had become blurry colours of red.

Louis didn’t feel like going back inside after that. He texted Eleanor and Bebe lest they worried about him and flagged down the next cab he found.  He just wanted to go home.

**

The hangover that haunted Louis the next morning was nothing compared to the shattering of his and Harry’s friendship, or whatever they’d had. Weeks went by without more than a few words being exchanged between them. It was as though Louis and Harry were back to the assistant’s first day at work. Although, this time, his boss didn’t show blatant contempt toward him and his work performance; no, it was almost worse that Harry was indifferent to everything regarding Louis.

During the day, the Editor-in-Chief addressed Louis as he would any other Grandeur employee – with a business-like tone of voice and from ten feet away, as though the distance would keep him safe. Safe from what, Louis had no idea. At five o’clock, Harry would leave the office with everybody else – which had been unprecedented up to this point, ever since Harry had taken over as the magazine’s Editor-in-Chief.

Louis had expected all of that. He had seen the anguish in Harry’s eyes after they had kissed. Unfortunately, expecting to feel pain and actually feeling it in his bones when it occurred were completely different things. Because every time his boss avoided him or ignored his presence in the room, it hurt like hell.

That might be the reason why he had tried mending things between them in the beginning. After the first day since Harry had walked into the office and greeted Louis in a cold, detached manner, he had become tired and fed up. During lunch hour, he managed to ambush Harry in his office, when everyone was elsewhere and they would have a bit of privacy to talk. He tried to apologise, at first:

“Harry, please.” He pleaded, since the man wouldn’t even spare a glance at him.

They were sat opposite each other, with Harry’s long desk in between. The man in question was staring at his computer screen fixedly, typing slowly into the keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t done anything else since Louis had barged in, locking the double doors behind himself and taking a seat without asking.

“What do you want me to say, Louis?” He replied coldly. His eyes didn’t stray from the screen.

“I want you to look at me.”

Harry’s hands froze. His eyes met Louis’.

“Is that it?”

Louis rolled his eyes, while the other man resumed his typing.

“Look, I want to apologise for last Friday. I was completely out of line and-”, he started, before being interrupted by his boss.

“I was the one who kissed you.” Harry objected. Louis had granted his full attention now.

“I know, but I let it happen,” Louis explained calmly.

Harry huffed and ran his rings-clad fingers through his hair. His face was screwed up in frustration.

“Please, don’t say that,” He whispered. “Please, Louis. I need space right now, I need you to move on with your life. But please, don’t regret what happened that night. Don’t regret the kiss. Please.”

Louis didn’t move for what felt like ages. He merely sat there, dumbfounded. He had certainly not expected that.

“Okay”, was his response.

As hard as it was, Louis respected Harry’s wish and attempted to carry on with his life. Since he had no reason to stay late at the office anymore, he started leaving work on time and spending his time submitting the pieces he had already written to different magazines and newspapers. Hopefully, one of them would be interested in hiring him and he would have the opportunity to leave Grandeur, and inevitably to leave Harry. Otherwise, he would never move on. Not if he had to be in close quarters with him all day every day during the week.

And he was so, so proud of his work. Of all the pieces he wrote in the past month, his favourite was about his journey through the fashion industry – how a 28-year-old guy who had never had any interest in this world had spontaneously landed himself right in its core. Louis still dressed the same and that would probably not change anytime soon. However, over the past few months at Grandeur, he had grown to respect this industry and value its importance – from an individual point of view, but also from a cultural one as well. He still understood very little, considering fashion is a vast universe and he had barely scratched its surface. Nonetheless, perhaps sharing his story would help someone, make a difference.

Louis had learned a lot working at the magazine, and he knew he could always look back and appreciate this period of his life. However, it was time to delve into new worlds, face new adventures. He missed writing for a living, researching stories and telling them to the world. Despite the experience he had acquired at Grandeur as an executive assistant, for which he was truly grateful, he yearned to explore his potential more. He had submitted several different pieces, the one about his journey through the fashion industry included, to incredibly renowned papers such as The Guardian, The Telegraph and The Times. Maybe it was a long shot, but it was worth trying, for sure.

A few weeks later, Louis’ phone rang.

He had just arrived home and slumped beside Niall on the sofa, where he was watching the telly. The phone call almost went to voicemail, due to Louis’ laziness to pick it up, until his friend slapped his leg from his side of the sofa, across which Louis was lying, and complained:

“Take the call, for fuck’s sake.”  

Giving in reluctantly, Louis pressed the green button on his screen.

“Hello?” He said.

“Hello, am I speaking to Louis Tomlinson?” A tinny, female voice chirped on the other side of the call.

“That’s him. Who’s this?”

“Hello, Mr. Tomlinson. My name is Sarah Waters, I work for the HR department for Guardian Media Group. I am calling you regarding a columnist job you applied for at The Observer.”

Louis’ heart stopped. He couldn’t believe this was happening. What was even considered an appropriate response?

“Oh,” Probably not that.

Niall looked at him curiously, perhaps sensing it was something serious.

“The editors were very interested in the pieces you submitted. Are you available for an interview here at our Kings Place head office next week?”

He knew how to answer  _that_.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Brilliant. How about on Tuesday evening?”

He jumped off the sofa to write down their arrangements. After jotting down the exact time and date they scheduled, Louis thanked her profusely and finished the call. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as his eyes found Niall’s.

“What was that about?” He asked.

“That was The Observer. The mother-fucking Observer,” Louis mumbled, still in shock. “I’m going there on Tuesday for an interview.”

Niall leapt to his feet and grabbed Louis by the shoulders.

“Fuck off! Seriously? That’s amazing, Lou!” He yelled, ecstatic.

“I know!” Louis replied in the same ear-splitting sound level.

“Did you submit the fashion essay? That one was great. I’m so proud of you, mate.” Niall hugged him tight, spinning him around the room.

After he was put down, Louis laughed airily. “Thanks, Nialler. I’m kind of proud of myself too. It’s my dream job, you know. It’s also a good pay,” he continued, “if I get the job I’ll be able to save enough money to get out of your hair soon.”

“I don’t care about that, Lou. I’m just happy for you. You deserve this, you know that, right?”

He did know. After years working for the local newspaper in Doncaster, his soul craved a real challenge. The constant demands of his work at Grandeur the past few months only proved this right. He was ready to do this. He thrived under pressure and he wanted this job more than anything. But.

 Louis sighed. Moving on had its disadvantages. Leaving Harry would be painful and he would miss the curly-haired man greatly. That was what he had asked for, though. Louis had no choice.  

“Are you thinking about him?” Niall asked after they returned to the sofa. Weighed down by the sadness and longing in his thoughts, Louis slowly lay across the seats, resting his head on his friend’s lap and tucking his legs in.

“Yeah. I seem to always be, lately.”

“Love does that to a person.” Niall petted his hair kindly.

Louis blanched. “What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Harry.”

Niall huffed, his hand stilling in Louis’ hair.

“You don’t have to lie to me, mate. It’s written all over your face.”

Louis rolled his eyes, sitting up.  

“Because you and your two-year relationship with Barbara make you a love expert?”

“Obviously.” His friend paused, eyes flitting across the room nervously. “I’m actually thinking about proposing to her soon.”

“Mate, are you serious?” Louis gasped. As Niall nodded with a toothy smile on his face, he was enveloped in a suffocating bear hug. “I’m so happy for you, you tosser.”

The hug turned into a tickling battle that lasted until they were both breathless and their backs hurt from the fall onto the cold, hardwood floor. They settled on a tie and agreed to go out to celebrate in case they got positive responses from Barbara and the writing job, accordingly.

Two weeks later, Louis and Niall ordered the most expensive drinks at their favourite pub, claiming it was their night and they had a lot to be thankful for.

**

The HR department at The Observer allowed Louis to give his current work a two-week notice. It was a good compromise; his contract at Grandeur was supposed to last until March and he wouldn’t feel comfortable abandoning Eleanor without at least helping her to find a decent replacement for him until the one in maternity leave was due to return.

Part of him was relieved – he wanted to hold on to the magazine, and Harry, for as long as he could. The new job was an opportunity for a fresh start for him, though. New beginnings, new people, and new friends. One day he would wake up and his first thought wouldn’t be about Harry. Louis couldn’t wait for that moment to come.

But it wasn’t that easy. He needed to leave his current job first in order to accomplish that.

The day after his celebration with Niall, Louis pulled Eleanor aside at work and asked to speak to her privately. It was almost five o’clock and they both already had their coats on as last-minute details to Harry’s schedule were arranged.

“Sure,” Eleanor mumbled absent-mindedly, “just give me a sec.”

Once their computers were shut down and they were done for the day, Louis guided her over to the old printing room. Despite being easily accessed by anyone in the office, it was a tiny, closed off room where assistants and interns hid and cried when they were feeling overwhelmed. The printer there was old-fashioned and hadn’t been used in ages. It was the perfect spot for their conversation.

“You’re worrying me, Lou. What’s wrong?” Eleanor asked when they reached the secluded room.

He told her mostly everything, skipping the parts where he had fallen for Harry and the man had rejected him and begged Louis to leave him alone. He also put his sudden need to abandon his job down to his craving to write for a living, claiming he missed it so much he couldn’t wait any longer. The lies burned like acid in his tongue, and it was all he could do not to pour his heart out to his friend and change his mind about leaving.

Once he was done, Eleanor’s eyes were pooling with tears. She blinked furiously and refused to let them fall.

“I understand.” She sniffed. “I do.”

Louis’ throat was closing up. He cursed his sensitive soul.

“We’ll keep in touch, yeah?” His arms circled her tiny waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Maybe I’ll let you dress me one day.”

She hugged him back just as tightly.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They pulled apart.

“When are you leaving, then?” She asked, gently pressing her forefingers beneath her eyelids, wiping away any stubborn teardrops.

“In two weeks exactly.”

“And you’re telling Harry, right? He’ll be so sad you’re leaving us.”

Before Louis could scoff in objection, he was interrupted by the sharp sound of something crashing on the floor behind them. By the entrance stood Harry, wide-eyed and frozen in place, with a messy stack of papers by his feet. The pages were strewn across the floor, but his boss paid them no attention. His unwavering gaze locked Louis in place.

“Where are you going?” The Editor-in-Chief asked, blinking owlishly, still not moving.

“What are you doing back here?” Louis shot back.

Harry’s cheeks flushed. “The normal printer isn’t working again.”  

“It’s working just fine, Harold, I made copies this morn-”

“Where are you going, Louis?” Harry asked again, cutting him off.  

Eleanor flicked her eyes back and forth between them.

“I’m gonna go.” She said softly, before sprinting out of the room.

Louis exhaled, frustrated. “I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Harry’s eyes were hard.

“I submitted a piece to The Observer and they offered me a job. I start in two weeks.”

Harry shook his head, face falling.

“No. No, that can’t be. You were supposed to stay until Jade came back.” She was the employee who had recently had a baby. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll find the perfect assistant to replace me, you won’t even notice.”

Harry gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, squeezing them into angry slits.

“Fuck you, Louis. I don’t care about the assistant job. I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”

Louis’ brows knitted into a frown.

“You told me to move on. That’s what I’m doing, Harry, I’m moving on.”

His boss dropped to his knees and started picking up the scattered paper on the floor. Louis wanted to smash the old printer to pieces, blaming its existence for Harry having overheard his and Eleanor’s conversation. He joined his boss on the floor instead and helped him stack the pages back into piles. His hands stilled when he noticed the teardrop stains.

He glanced up at Harry and found him shaking his head furiously as tears fell down his cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant.” He rubbed his palms against his eyes. “You were supposed to stay.”

Louis took his hand in his, stroking Harry’s soft skin delicately with the pad of his thumb. His voice was gentle and low. “I know, love. But I can’t. It’s too hard.”

Harry pulled away from him and scrambled to his feet. He faced Louis with hardened eyes and a clenched jaw.

“You said you were here for me. Was that a lie?”

His words hit Louis as hard as a slap.

“That’s not fair.” He croaked.

“You said it. You told me you would be here for me. And now you’re leaving.”

There was no placating him. Harry was fuming with rage and nothing he could say would calm his boss right now. Louis rose to his feet as well and sighed.

“I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left the room without another word.

With every turn Louis took through the hallways of the magazine, the realisation that he was leaving Harry sank in, forming knots in his stomach and clogging up his throat. He quickened his pace to reach the lifts sooner rather than later – otherwise, he would break down and cry in front of his colleagues. Once Louis had stepped in and pressed the ground floor button, he sagged against the wall. Before the doors could slide closed, though, a hand stuck out between them. It was Harry.

The man joined him inside the lift and opened his mouth to say something.

“Harry, I can’t talk about this anymore.” Louis interrupted, weariness taking over him.

His boss hovered over him with pleading eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll do the talking. Just listen to me, please?” He begged.

“Fine.” Louis conceded, curiosity taking over him.

They were on the eighteenth floor. Harry had some time. He might have to speak a bit faster than usual, though. As soon as the doors opened again, Louis would storm out of there.

Harry cleared his throat.

“I almost came out, two years ago. I was at the peak of my modelling career, everyone wanted to sign me to their brands, but I hated hiding part of who I was. I hated all the lies and the publicity stunts. So I decided to come out.”

Louis considered him carefully and nodded for him to go on. They were on the fourteenth floor now.

“I was scared, don’t get me wrong. I had never been more terrified in my life, but it felt right. I was ready.” Harry inhaled shakily. “And then my Mum told me she was stepping down as the Editor-in-Chief of Grandeur and wanted me to take her place. Even as young as I was.”

Eighth floor. Harry’s voice became more hurried and frantic with each word.

“She didn’t know about my plans, then. I never told her, actually, because I didn’t want her to feel guilty. I postponed the plans and took the job. It was the right thing to do.” He paused, out of breath.

Louis pressed the emergency button, stopping the lift in between two floors.

“It’s okay, love. I’m not going anywhere. I’m listening.” He murmured softly, urging to reach out to Harry but keeping his hands to himself. Wherever his boss was going with this story, it was clearly important to him that Louis paid attention and stuck to the end.

Harry nodded, visibly relieved.

“I couldn’t do both. It would be too much. I wouldn’t be able to handle all the pressure, as weak and cowardly as that sounds.”

Louis shook his head in protest, but didn’t interrupt.

“It was supposed to be only six months, Louis, I swear. But I always found these stupid excuses, you know, and then six months turned into a year which turned into two. And now I’m still here, in the closet. The magazine takes up so much of my time that I never even have a second to think about my personal life. I don’t think about anything else, except for this job. And I know it’s wrong, trust me, but it’s how I learned to cope. By being all in.”

Failing to resist his urges any longer, Louis pressed in close to Harry, rubbing his hands up and down the man’s trembling arms.

“Okay. Okay, baby, I get it. I understand. I’m not judging you, alright? You don’t have to explain yourself to me, darling.”

Harry huffed out in frustration.

“You don’t get it. That’s not enough for me anymore. Ever since I met you, Lou, I can’t get you out of my head. It’s hard to even focus at work.”

“Oh.” Louis’ heart exploded in his chest, beating loudly enough that he was sure Harry could hear.

“You make me so happy, Lou. All I want is to cherish you and support you as much as you have cherished and supported me these past few months. I think you’re incredible. I have to avoid you at work because otherwise I’ll just sit and admire you all day long. I can’t breathe when you’re around. Seriously, feel my chest.” Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and pressed it to the middle of his upper torso. “You literally take my breath away. My heart can’t keep up.”          

Louis could beg to differ – he was the one who was so out of breath at that moment he was starting to feel dizzy.

“That night, when we kissed, I got so scared. I realised I had fallen for you. I had fallen for you every time you made me laugh, every time we spent time together and talked about our lives. I fell for you so many times that I’m all broken and bruised and I  _tried_ not to, trust me. I tried forgetting you after the kiss because that’s how scared I was. I still am. But I don’t want to be without you anymore, Lou. I am in love with you.”

Louis had listened enough. Without waiting for another word, he pushed Harry against the wall and pressed their lips together with a bruising force. He deepened the kiss almost immediately, tilting his head to the side as their tongues met hungrily, as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. His hands found Harry’s hair and he pulled on the strands, exposing the man’s neck to him and coaxing a deep groan from his boss. Louis attached his lips to the soft skin on Harry’s throat and slowly traced a wet path from his Adam’s apple to his earlobe.

“Louis, please,” Harry begged, his voice hoarse.

Louis pulled away, wiping his mouth with his right hand as he watched the man in front of him pant heavily, face glowing with a layer of sweat and lips shining and bitten red.

“You taste delicious.” He mumbled to himself, as an afterthought.

Harry heard it in the quietness of the lift and huffed a laugh.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“You love it.” Louis winked at him. Sobering up, Harry’s eyes became vulnerable and he shrunk in on himself.

“I do.” He admitted.

Louis pressed in close again, holding Harry’s cheeks with his palms gently, delicately.

“I love you, too, Harry. And I want to be with you.” His face hardened then. “But I’m still leaving Grandeur. I have this amazing job as a writer waiting for me and you’re my boss here. I wouldn’t be able to date you.”

Harry’s grin was as large as the Cheshire cat’s smile.

“That’s okay. I just couldn’t let you go before making you all mine.” He joked, although his words carried real meaning.

Louis grinned back at him.

“You cheeky shit.”

“You love it,” Harry repeated his words back at him.

“I do.” Louis agreed.

Harry grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him close for another passionate kiss. After what felt like hours of heated snogging and some groping over their clothes, people started banging on the walls and they were forced to vacate the lift. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered when they had each other.

**

Two weeks later, Louis started his new job at The Observer. Harry dropped him off in his car and they shared a discreet peck on the lips captured through the windshield by paparazzi hired by Harry’s PR team. It was the first in a series of articles that would lead to his official coming out. He and Louis would be featured as a couple, holding each other’s hands every step of the way.

They made each other strong, after all.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> This is my [Tumblr](http://louiseville.tumblr.com/), feel free to come and say hi! Also, thank you very much for all the kudos and the kind comments you've been leaving, I really appreciate it <3


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